


Sweetheart

by SkinSlave



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Anal Fingering, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Blood, Butt Plugs, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, F/M, Femdom, Hair-pulling, Impact Play, Knifeplay, Power Imbalance, Sexual Coercion, Slut Shaming, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:55:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22577413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkinSlave/pseuds/SkinSlave
Summary: A sassy femme sex worker is determined to earn his pay, even if it hurts.TW: no prior negotiation, check-ins, aftercare, tall sub/short Domme, sw-negative language, underweight fetishism, leggings.
Relationships: Marilyn Manson/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 18





	Sweetheart

"How much, sweetheart?"

From the look of him, there wasn't any point in beating around the bush. He had the bone structure for suffering: long fingers, smooth cheekbones, a straight nose that he held high. He wore poverty like a mink stole.

He turned toward her and scoffed. She wasn't his typical trade. His incredulous smirk spread thin into a patronizing smile. He was beautiful.

"It's Marilyn. Don't get many women down here." He licked his teeth like he was wearing a groove in them. "Who are you fishing for?"

"Myself."

His chuckle was smooth. She knew then that she wanted him. She wasn't going to leave without him. He could feel it. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and lit one.

"You're a cute one… What's your budget, doll?" 

"Five to start. More if you're good for me. Nothing if you tap out."

He lifted his one penciled-on brow and pursed his lips. He was about to call bullshit and strut away. She lifted her hand out of her coat pocket, a flash of green. He cocked his hip out and took a deliberately slow drag.

"What keeps me from just taking it from you?"

"What's in my other pocket."

"Hmm. You gonna keep me safe with that, mama?"

"It is a bad neighborhood."

"Two before I get in your car."

"You try that with everyone?"

"Just weeds out the dumb ones." He grinned and stomped his cigarette out with his tall platform boot. "Where you parked, mama?"

Anyone who saw them together would've done a double-take. Marilyn in his black leggings under tiny jean shorts and a scrap of fabric that used to be a red tank top, biceps covered in tattoos, long dark hair down his back… Her belted wool coat and smart blonde bob made her look like an arresting officer.

He wasn't shy. He offered to get it started in the car, despite being too leggy to maneuver well. He settled for looking out the window and making small talk when she let him. 

Her name was Summer. She had something particular in mind. And she meant what she said. She'd pay for his enthusiasm, but if he backed out… zero. He assured her that he'd been around the block.

Her place was nice. She said she was going to pour some drinks. He headed for the bathroom to freshen up. After two days on the sidewalk, it was a good idea to get some soap involved. He reapplied his dark red lipstick, smudged on some extra black eyeshadow, and met her in the kitchen.

"So…" He tapped a painted nail against the wine glass. "Do we need some candles, or…?"

Summer laughed and shook her head. She seemed much more at ease. She was pretty. Her teeth were perfect.

"Nothing like that. I'm not that kind of woman."

"I haven't been picked up by anyone who wasn't a man or a pig in so long, I don't remember."

Marilyn finished his glass and set it on the counter. He reached out and hooked a finger between the buttons of her blouse. He didn't mind hanging out a bit, but he'd come to get paid.

"Come here," she said, leading him down a hallway. "Remember… you pull out and there's no deal."

"Oh, I'm not going any… where…"

The room was somehow both posh and strange. The sensible oak furniture he expected were stocks and benches instead of bookshelves. It was suddenly apparent that she wasn't looking for a femme experiment with the comfort of a dick.

"I can call you a cab," she said, one hand on his lower back, "or you can take off your shirt."

Slowly, he peeled the red fabric away. His ribs were lovely, prominent and scarred from some past abuse. He didn't cringe when she touched the pink slashes. Either he'd healed or he was used to the pain.

"Turn around. Hands against the wall."

Marilyn complied, arching to present his ass. He'd assumed the position too many times. He thought he knew what she wanted to see, a slutty little stick figure ready to get fucked.

The first strike tore the air from his lungs. He fell forward, his face hitting the wall. His breath came back like a tsunami and he whined. Perhaps he wasn't used to pain after all… at least, not this kind. She pressed her hand to the red stripe the belt left on his back.

"Jesus," he panted. "Jesus, fuck."

"You think he's in here with you? You think he's watching?" Summer's voice was different, colder.

"I guess you like it rough."

"Maybe."

Marilyn's height and his tendency to squirm made her go slowly, leaving stripe after stripe. The leather popped each time. His skin went pink, darker at the edges. She moved to the side to appreciate the contrast with his powder-white ribs.

"Oh… you're shaking…"

Her fingers were gentle again, coaxing him from the wall. His hazel eyes were wet. She stood on her toes to push a stringy lock of hair back behind his ear.

"Tapping out?"

There was a long pause and he shook his head. She smiled and reached down to pop the button on his shorts. He pulled them down and maneuvered his boots through. His leggings had a strategic tear. She slipped her hand through and began to work him up.

After a minute or two, he managed to get into it. His cock was long and a little thin. It suited his frame. He gave a few genuine hums of pleasure, then an overacted moan. Summer caught his hair and tugged his head to the side.

"That bench. Bend over it. You do know how to bend over, don't you, sweetheart?"

He laughed, low and smooth. His eyebrow raised and he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his leggings. She didn't correct him, so he pulled them down around his calves before getting on his knees.

His ass was barely anything. He was so skinny. He spread his knees a bit, showing off the shaved pink hole that paid half his rent. The red hole that paid the other half opened.

"Ready, mama."

Summer laughed. He really wasn't. She moved toward a chest of drawers and he got a good look at her. Her slacks were creased. Her blue sleeveless blouse looked like silk. She was smiling as she gathered a wooden stick, a bottle of lube, and what he hoped was a condom. Splinters did not seem like fun.

She knelt behind him. He heard the snap of latex from a disposable glove. Then a lubed finger slicked over his entrance.

"Sorry, babe," she sighed. "It's not that I'm squeamish about bare hands. It's just that... well… you're a _whore."_

He started to argue that she had no room to talk. _She_ was the one who picked him up. Then again, maybe that was part of her fantasy. He pushed against her fingers and thought about how nice that money would smell.

As she slid deeply into his ass, the cane hit his left cheek. He screamed and sat up. She planted one hand between his shoulders and shoved him back down.

"Do you want to eat tonight or not?"

Her fingertip searched for that spot that would offset the pain. She found it and stayed there, rubbing slowly. When he let out a shaky moan, she swung the cane again. His cry was wet and desperate.

Marilyn was perfect, trembling and gripping the bench for dear life. A tear hung on the tip of his nose. She stroked his prostate, keeping him in a place somewhere between _can't stay_ and _can't leave._ She ran a hand over the purpling X on his ass. He hissed.

"Shut up. If it hurts so damn bad, why are you so hard?"

Summer reached between his thighs and gave him a few tugs, just to drive the point home. He sniffed and cleared his throat. His brain was flipping over in his skull. She rubbed his ass again and his stomach joined in the acrobatics.

"I feel sick."

She let him go and disappeared. He stayed where he was, open and shuddering. She returned and knelt by his head. When she lifted his chin, she seemed concerned. With her help, he had a few crackers, some orange juice and a generous swig of Pepto. She lowered his head and gave him time to recover.

"Your color's back," Summer said fondly, "such as it is. Do you want to stop?"

He shook his head. No way was he letting her out of paying. Her expression changed. It was game time again.

"You know, you shouldn't drink if you haven't eaten all day. And jizz doesn't count."

Marilyn rolled his eyes. She loved it. But she couldn't just let it go. She crossed behind him and pulled him back into his knees by his hair.

"You ungrateful whore. How many cocks would you have to suck to get the money I'm offering? Hmm? Ten? Twenty? I deserve to be treated with respect."

"Then maybe you should get a _date_ instead of a _hooker._ "

She waited for him to spit in her face or demand a cab ride home. It didn't happen. He just stared at her, dark eyes shining. The corners of his mouth turned up. There it was: pride and petulance.

"Is that all you got, mama? I'm getting bored."

Heart swelling with satisfaction, Summer yanked him to his feet and shoved him backward. He stumbled a few steps. The heel of his boot caught and he fell backward. His landing was softened by the thick athletic mat he tripped over. But even four inches of padding couldn't dull the pain in his caned ass. He cursed and rolled toward the right.

"Strip."

By the time he'd wriggled out of his boots and leggings, Summer had joined him on the mat. She moved him onto his back and straddled his thighs. She dug her fingers into his hips, feeling the ridges of bone.

"You're so small," she said, almost to herself.

"Cocksucker diet. Keeps me pretty."

Marilyn lifted his arms overhead, accentuating his height. She slid off of his body and nudged his knees apart. He got the idea and pulled his legs up. 

From between them, she could lube his entrance easily. Two fingers, then three, disappeared. She found his sweet spot and stroked until he was moaning.

"Your ass is wrecked, whore. Don't tell me it's just the money."

He shook his head. He had a pained expression but his cock told the truth. It was stiff again and bobbing against his tummy.

Summer reached behind herself and produced a thick plug. Her fingers vanished. Marilyn whined and looked down to see her prepping the toy.

"Jesus."

"You've taken two cocks at once, right?" She waited for him to nod. "Then this should just fall right in."

Despite his experience, it took a while to get it in. She was slow and generous with the lube. When it finally sank into his ass, he choked on his moan. His cock slapped his belly, stringing precum.

"Here comes the easy part," Summer smiled, cupping his cheek. "You're gonna jerk off for me while I play. You cum, you get paid."

He nodded and gathered some spit from his tongue. A crinkling sound drew his attention. She had unwrapped a single-use blade and was inserting it into a steel handle. His cock bounced and he caught it.

"You can stop anytime."

She brought the blade to his chest and drew a swirling pattern with the blunt side. Marilyn was breathing hard over the slick sound of his fist. When his hips began to rock on their own, she flipped the knife and sliced just above his nipple.

"Fuck!" he grunted. "Shit."

He started again, jerking quickly. His right hand reached back to feel the plug. It stretched him so nicely. He pressed against the base and moaned at the shifting pressure. Another cut, lower, brought his voice down an octave.

"Tell me you like it," she murmured, smearing blood across his torso.

"I… I like it."

"Fucking whore… stuffed full… dirty…"

The pain, the sticky coolness, the edge in her voice made Marilyn's head swim. His approaching orgasm began to fill in the hollow of his hips. It was tight and slow, building. His thighs vibrated.

"Again," he panted, pushing hard against the plug.

She indulged him, adding a cut on the other side of his chest. He closed his eyes, sank into himself. Her fingers, tacky with blood, found his nipples and rubbed slow circles.

"You're shaking like a Magic Fingers bed in a cheap hotel. Are you gonna cum, gutter slut? Shoot that filthy load everywhere? Or are you gonna wait for your next cumdump?"

"Can't," he said through gritted teeth. "Can't cum with it in. Too big."

Summer slapped his hand away and slowly pulled on the plug. It slipped out, leaving a wide gape that she couldn't resist. Two fingers slid in and curled upward. He went rigid and let out a loud, begging moan. Cum dripped thick over his knuckles and pooled in his navel. He kept stroking, working the last of it out.

She gathered a bit of his mess on her gloved finger and rubbed it across his red lips. He opened for it and his tongue darted out. Aftershocks jerked his body like a puppet. The tears came back, running into his ears.

"Shhhhh…" Summer laid next to him and pulled him close. "It's ok, baby. You're so good for me. So good, Marilyn. Beautiful boy..."

When he'd calmed, she helped him clean up. He wobbled to the bench like a newborn and let her bandage his chest. Her touch was heartbreaking. He hadn't felt cared for in a long time. He tried not to think about it.

"Do you have a phone?" she asked, counting out hundreds.

"No."

Summer shook her head and peeled off two more bills.

"Get a phone. I'm not gonna chase after you."

"You think I wanna see you again?" he scoffed.

"I know you do." She wrote a phone number on one of the bills. "Text me when you get your phone."

She tugged Marilyn down by his hair and almost kissed him. He could feel the heat of her breath. Goosebumps rose on his arms. He tried to close the gap, but she held him firm.

"I don't kiss whores," she whispered, grinning. "Now, get out."

  
  
  



End file.
